Little soldiers

Be it childish scribbling
Crafted, stylized or mere black ink
Typed little soldiers in perfect uniform
That run, skip, across an endless plain
Creating sumptuous feasts of verb and noun
Colluding to tempt, taunt, tantalize
Or freshly torn in brutality, ugly and brash
A cacophony of meanings and sounds
Some whispered softly to tickle our ears
Others burst, resound, distract our mind
As upon so many leafs, they scurry away
Expectation, I turn the page.